


M.I.A

by csrugbyworld (littlethanktosomeoneachday)



Series: Army AU [1]
Category: French Rugby RPF, Rugby RPF, Rugby Top14 RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Army AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:27:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2219220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethanktosomeoneachday/pseuds/csrugbyworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find his body 30 hours after having declared him M.I.A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	M.I.A

**Author's Note:**

> I am so so so sorry. I was listening to The Funeral by Band of Horses (recommend to listen while reading btw) and it came to my mind because I already had idea for an Army AU with these two.  
> Unbetaed.

Maxime is M.I.A.

They find his body 30 hours later. 

What is left of his body.

Brice was there, not in his unit but he was there.

He was there when they brought him back. He flew in the plane with the coffin right in front of his eyes.

He was greeted by the President when they landed but he couldn’t care less about anyone’s condolences. Would they bring Maxime back to him? Would they bring back his smile? His stupid jokes? His pranks? His laugh? His crankiness in the morning? His hair all out of place as Brice made love to him?

He walks behind, follows, he lets them lead him all throughout the day. He doesn’t register The President’s speech or the General’s. He doesn’t register when they hand him the Légion d’Honneur. 

He barely holds himself together when both his family and Maxime are finally there and put an umbrella over his head.

Of course it rains.

He's damp, hair sticking to his forehead, clothes to his skin. He stands straight, shivering in the wind, but straight, taking their condolences, their pain, their tears. Using his military training not to show anything, to stop his mouth from quivering, his eyes from watering, his breathing from stopping. In, out, it's easy, he can do it. He's survived Mali, he should survive this.

But what is there to live for now?

No more crumbs in bed and pillow fights because of that. No more cuddles in the middle of the night after being woke up by nightmares. No more shoulder to cry on another friend who died. No more talks about quitting and living their dream life in a place, where no one could bother them, taking care of their garden, three dogs and small house that’d need a lot of fixing up. As they’d need a lot of fixing up after what they’ve seen. No more anything. 

Maxime is gone. Forever.

Nothing can fix that.


End file.
